


Half of Me

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e20 No Exit, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-04
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Donna's upset and Josh wants to know why...





	Half of Me

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

_CJ: I don’t blame Josh, it takes two of you. You chose to stay._

_DONNA: It’s the White House._

_CJ: It’s not the White House, it’s him._

_And, later…_ __

_DONNA: What should I be doing? Instead of this?_

_CJ: Anything. You should…go to lectures and symposia, and look for opportunities with non-profits, and have one-night stands with reporters from the Post-Intelligencer, and go on dates with what’s-his-name from the Solicitor General’s office, and anything that doesn’t have to do with Josh Lyman._

*

Part One

Josh walked into the Hawk and Dove and immediately spotted her, fair hair luminous beneath a hanging lamp. She was seated on the far side of the room, still wearing her scarf and coat; but there was an almost-empty glass in front of her, so he knew she’d been there a while. With her chin in her hand, eyes a little unfocused on the rows of bottles behind the bar, she looked as tired as he felt.

It was late Friday night, and Josh had finally set down a draft of some obscure, uninteresting piece of legislation in favor of a drink and then bed. He’d gone to the Hawk and Dove because Donna told him she’d be there; she’d left work an hour early, to meet an old college friend who was in town for the weekend. But the friend was currently nowhere in sight, and Josh guessed she had either come and gone already, or cancelled. No matter — Josh figured he and Donna could use a bit of catch-up time outside the office.

Work had been more hectic than usual for the past two weeks, as the entire West Wing dedicated itself to damage control for Hoynes’ resignation. In that time Josh had grown vaguely aware of a new distance between them; he hadn’t noticed it creeping up until suddenly it was there, gaping and painful and strange. He’d been short-tempered and Donna had been quiet, though helpful as ever, and their usual repartee seemed stretched a bit thin; it was difficult to be glib and witty while scrambling to protect the administration that kept them employed, after all. But it was only in the absence of their walk-and-talk hallway snippets, her poking fun at him from his office doorway or him lolling about her desk annoying her, that he realized how much it all really did keep him sane. 

He moved through the bar in her direction, suddenly unaccountably happy. Their catch-up time would likely involve nothing more than him being a jerk, albeit a charming one, and her calling him on it with well-delivered sarcasm, but it was their dynamic and damn it, he missed it. He saw her cell phone resting on the counter in front of her, and he took his own phone out, thinking he’d get her to smile, erase the weary look in her eyes if he could. She was, as always, first on his ‘last dialed’ list. He hit ‘send,’ and held the phone up to his ear, listening and watching hers as it began to ring.

The vibration of Donna’s phone startled her, and a few patrons turned their heads as it skittered noisily across the bar. She immediately grabbed it, and looked down to see who was calling. There was a moment as she took in the name and her whole body seemed to sigh. Her eyes fell shut. 

Josh knew she must think he was calling her back into work, and so her posture made sense – he waited for her to answer with that little bite in her voice that said, I thought I was gonna get some extra sleep tonight, but you need me, and I really don’t mind being needed. His voice would be full of his smile and he’d say something clever to make her look up, look around the room, and in a moment she’d see him standing feet away and she’d grin and roll her eyes, tiredness and thoughts of work forgotten.

But she didn’t answer. She just stared at the phone as it continued to buzz, and, on Josh’s end, ring, biting her lip. Her head lowered until the tips of her blonde hair brushed the bar. The phone rang once more in his ear and then her recorded voice, clear and familiar, politely asked him to leave a message.

Josh lowered his phone back to his pocket slowly, stunned. When did she ever not answer his calls? He could reach her when she was out with friends, or in the shower, or in bed in the dead of night; once, memorably, she had answered his call while riding a roller coaster with her younger cousin and nearly burst his eardrums with her screaming. He could remember getting her voicemail maybe twice before in all the years she’d worked for him. So what was happening now, tonight?

Watching her profile, he examined her expression. Her face was twisted up in the smallest wince, eyes tense, almost as if she was feeling physical pain. She brushed a hand absently over her eyes and he saw that her fingers came away wet. He felt a curious twinge. What on earth…?

Josh wasted no time in hurrying over to her, barely caring that he’d look like an idiot after she’d ignored his call moments before. She turned as he sank into the barstool and her eyes widened. “Josh,” she said simply, as her hand encircled her drink.

“Come here often?” he said lightly with a smile, watching Donna’s reaction to him. At first she seemed…surprised, and happy, even through the gloom on her face. Then something else clouded her expression and although she didn’t move, she seemed to visibly withdraw from him.

“But…you called me a second ago.” She waved her phone at him. “Why?”

“Just testing the phones.” He signaled to the bartender, pointing at the beer tap. “Great news, they’re not broken,” he added brightly.

“Sorry I didn’t answer,” she murmured, not sounding very sorry at all. “I thought you might need me to come in and right now I’m just so—”

“It’s okay,” he cut her off.

She smiled at that, a small smile. “Well, still, I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t. You’re now one of a great many women who avoid my phone calls.” His voice was gentle, teasing, his smile ready. And even as he spoke, he was aware that this behavior was quite unlike him. Quite unlike them. But her tears had unnerved him, and although there was not a trace of them to be found now, he was still troubled. Her face was slack, listless. He wanted to see a smile.

“But I don’t,” Donna said, after a short silence.

“Don’t what?”

“Avoid your calls. I don’t know what’s with me tonight, I’m sorry. Usually I don’t mind coming in late. You know that.”

“Yeah.” He took a hearty swallow of beer, hoping she would continue. But she didn’t. She finished her drink instead.

“What number was that?” he asked, looking at the empty glass.

“Three. Or four, maybe. Haven’t been keeping track.” Just drinking steadily, that’s the important thing, her voice said. Her chin was back in her hand, eyes distant. “Did the call go well?”

“Not bad. Joey did some polling. Apparently the affair hasn’t measurably affected the public’s opinion of President Bartlet. So I guess it’s good his office never worked too closely with ours after all.” He smirked, but his voice was at once biting, sarcastic, and full of regret. “We kept our hands clean, right?”

Donna nodded, and poked at her cardboard coaster. 

Josh watched her out of the corner of his eye and noted, with some surprise, that she wasn’t listening very closely. Three or four drinks, hard alcohol, and she was this quiet and withdrawn? Donna was usually a very charming, engaging, opinionated drunk, pouty, and flirtatious with everyone. And she’d been in bad moods before, certainly, but never outside of his reach. Usually by now he’d have her laughing, or at the very least utterly distracted by him. Josh felt that this distance, this disinterest, was cause for real concern. Usually, he realized with a tiny jolt, whenever he was with her, he filled up her eyes.

“So what’s going on?” he said, turning his upper body to face her on the stool. “Did you meet up with Leslie?”

“She couldn’t make it. Her flight was delayed, so the hotel gave away her reservation and she had to find someplace else. She feels bad.”

“She shouldn’t. Unless she set it all up to avoid seeing you somehow.”

Donna shrugged. “It’s possible. Leslie does have connections with airlines. And hotels.”

“Really?”

“No. I need another drink.”

She didn’t even look up as Josh flagged down the bartender, just nodding when he suggested a beer rather than another vodka cranberry.

“So, are you sad that you didn’t get to see her?” he pressed.

“Not really,” Donna said flatly, absently moving her fingers over her glass. “She was one of those girls you pretend to like, you know? Self-promoting and jealous of everyone.”

What was with her? Could this cheerless, shadowy woman really be Donna? Josh stared at her as though he could draw her smile, her sparkle, back out with just his eyes. “Donna…” he began earnestly after a pause, his voice turning serious.

“Don’t, Josh. Don’t ask.”

No longer distant, she interrupted him, and something in her voice was deeply serious as she turned to meet his eyes at last. Her words were a warning. Stay away, don’t ask, because you don’t want to know what it is. You really don’t. Her blonde hair, this bright border of her sweet, solemn face, made her look startlingly young in that moment. 

Finally, after a silence, Donna cleared her throat, and spoke more normally. “It’s just a funk, Josh. I’m sorry, I just—I’ll pull out of it. It happens, sometimes.”

“I’ve never seen it happen before.”

She smiled a little at the worry in his voice, and said, as though it were obvious, “That’s because I’ve never let you see it.”

“So what’s different now?”

“You surprised me. Didn’t think you’d be here. And I’m already drunk, so of course I’m turning all maudlin.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “This must be seriously depressing for you.”

He looked down at his hands on the bar, then took another drink, finishing the beer. “It isn’t,” he lied.

“You’re lying.” Donna smiled at him but her smile was raw, strange to his eyes.

Always before with them there was this limit, this line of professionalism, this studied, calm exterior. Every time things got intense, or something real was to be made of a situation, at least one of them knew to cut and run until everything could be forgotten and go back to normal. Through all the years they’d worked together, they kept this up. But still waters ran deep, and Josh thought what Donna was beginning to reveal to him mirrored secrets in the deepest, most hidden parts of himself; or at least he sensed it, the way his pulse suddenly raced and his nerves came to life.

I’m not fine, was what her face was telling him, helplessly honest. Not everything is all right with me, but you don’t want to know what it is that’s wrong. His eyes were drawn to her, magnet-like, waiting for her to speak again. He couldn’t bear not to know what it was.

“How did we get here?” Donna asked quietly of him. “To this place, you and I? I drove on a whim to work for your campaign and I chose your desk randomly and then you hired me and, despite how bizarre you found me and for some unfathomable reason, didn’t fire me. So how did we get here?”

“I don’t know, Donna.”

“I mean,” she went on, “why did you let me stay? You felt bad for me, didn’t you?”

“Sure, who wouldn’t? Dr. Freeride did a number on you.”

“And then?”

“And then what, exactly?” 

“Why did you keep me?” 

Josh felt bizarrely like she was guiding him through this, yet still didn’t know what she was getting at. The tone of her voice was insistent, almost belligerent. He was glad she was showing no interest in the beer next to her elbow. 

“I kept you because…you’re…good at what you do? And, we work well together.” Even this admission made him blush a little, innocent as it was. Be close and compatible, enjoy each other as much as you want to, but don’t ever talk about it, was how he and Donna operated. Because talking about it made it real. And things that are real have to be faced.

“Don’t you ever wonder why I stayed?” Donna asked.

“Huh?”

“A college dropout like me. You never wondered why I’ve stayed all this time? Why I didn’t ever go back to school, or look for a better position?”

Josh was getting a bit nervous. Why, he couldn’t explain, not even to himself. But he knew she wanted him to ask, so he did. “Why did you stay?”

“Because,” she said, and the word came out as a hiss of a sigh as she buried her eyes in her hands. “Because it’s the White House.”

Josh was surprised by her answer, and a little let down. He’d thought—he didn’t know what he’d thought. “Yeah,” he said, humoring her, “working in the White House really is—”

“Oh, Josh, it’s not the White House,” Donna said, interrupting him, and her eyes were cast low, the light dazzling on her hair. Her laugh, when it came, was short and mirthless, and her voice was full of defeat. “It’s you.”

What does she mean? There were these sounds in Josh’s ears, whispering and roaring, as he stared at her. “What?”

“Did you drive?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Yes, I did, but what—”

“Could you take me home please?” Donna slid off the stool, threw her scarf over her shoulder, and moved to the door. 

“Sure,” he said to her back. He had no choice but to follow.

*

The night was bone-chillingly cold as they walked to his car, but her cheeks were still flushed, one of very few indications that she’d been drinking at all. He decided to let it drop, what she’d said, even though he was wildly, painfully curious. Not so much about the words themselves, because they could be read a number of different ways. But the conversation itself had been so steeped in significance, he thought, even if he didn’t know what the significance was. And for some unknown reason, his cut-and-run instinct was failing him for the first time.

The drive to Donna’s apartment was short and silent. Josh parked and she gestured him inside absently—any other night he might just drive off with a casual goodbye, but tonight he didn’t even think of it. They filed through her front door and it wasn’t exactly warm inside, but it was a lot more pleasant than the frigid outdoors. The first thing she did upon entering was turn up the heat.

By the time Josh’s shoes were off, Donna’s head was already in the refrigerator. “Want another beer?” she asked him. 

“Yeah, thanks.” So what now, he thought. Does she talk more?

He hadn’t a clue, but he wanted to know more. Donna was acting strangely and she was upset, more upset than he’d ever seen her before, and she wouldn’t tell him why, but she was still trying to tell him. That is, she wanted him to get it without her having to say the words. Josh knew that much. And he knew it related to him – the words “It’s you” were pretty clear on that count, if nothing else. 

Donna silently handed him the beer and moved to the stereo, pushing the power button. The Beatles started up mid-song, and their cheery chords clashed woefully with the quiet confusion in his head. 

“No roommate?” he inquired suddenly, looking around the quiet apartment. 

Donna was in the bathroom now. Why did she keep moving? She called back at him, “No, out of town with Dennis. Her boyfriend.”

She reemerged with her hair down, wearing a short blue bathrobe, and sat on the couch, avoiding his eyes. “Work clothes get uncomfortable after sixteen hours,” she observed shortly.

Sipping his beer, Josh realized he was still wearing a suit and felt a bit silly about it. “Yeah,” he agreed, pulling off his jacket. He went to work on his tie next as he sat down beside Donna on the couch, but she scooted closer to him unexpectedly and replaced his hands with her own. She untied the knot fluidly, letting her hands slide over the fabric. He remembered that once, absently, she told him she loved the feel of real silk ties.

Suddenly he was very aware of their proximity, her sitting maybe six inches away with one leg folded under her, displacing the hem of the bathrobe just slightly. Quiet and distant and full of mystery. He swallowed, feeling curious energy humming and buzzing between them.

Donna, however, seemed unaware of any abnormality, entirely involved in the task at hand. He wasn’t sure why she’d decided to help him remove it, but she dealt with his neckties and bowties and his wardrobe in general often enough to make it not irregular. He swallowed as her fingers brushed under his collar, and realized that his heart was racing. Then why, he wondered, does this time feel so different?

Silence stretched between them as she finished, broken only by the low notes of “Blackbird” coming from the stereo. Donna laid the tie on top of his jacket, and then turned to him.

“I’m quitting,” she told him, extremely matter-of-factly, and then sat and waited for him to speak.

*

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arrive_

*

Part Two

You’re…what?”

Josh stared at her as she sat there. Donna watched him back with her head tilted, and didn’t speak.

“You’re quitting?”

She nodded—then cut her eyes away at the expression on his face.

Josh sat still for a moment as he tried to comprehend the very idea. Getting to work in the morning, no Donna there. Maybe some foreign hand offering a cup of morning coffee that he wouldn’t be able to stomach. There’d be no more pointless reminders of meetings he was already on his way to, or discussion of the latest article she’d read that had her worried, just so she could talk to him, reestablish contact for a minute between meetings.

At lunch they wouldn’t eat together outside, or in the mess, and they wouldn’t swap desserts. She wouldn’t steal his fries. At the end of the day she wouldn’t be there in his doorway telling him to go home, concern in her eyes, concern that made him feel—he had never before realized this—loved. Instead there would be some meek presence at what used to be her desk, asking permission to go home at 8 pm in a mouse-like voice. Not smiling archly like she did, not flouncing away with that invigorating expression of challenge on her face.

It was absurd. It wouldn’t be comprehended. She’s quitting?

“No you’re not,” Josh said, and laughed.

He was vaguely aware that any other boss, any boss who was just a boss, would have immediately said “okay” and offered to write a letter of recommendation. Asked for two more weeks, maybe, and offered severance pay. Donna had served long, and served well, and any other boss would be sorry to lose that kind of dedication, but that boss would also be reasonable about it, knowing that, as good as she was, she deserved more.

“Yes, I am,” she said, halting Josh’s thoughts. She drew her other leg under her so she was sitting cross-legged, and hugged herself.

“What is it you want?” he asked suddenly, shifting on the couch and facing her straight on. He wanted to reach out to her, see him fill her eyes again like he used to in what now seemed like the extremely distant past. He was aware that he sounded slightly panicked. “What’s really wrong, Donna?” He tried another smile. “You can’t quit, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Her hair fell over her face, covering one eye, and he longed to push it back, make her meet his gaze. “Or is it staying that’s ridiculous?”

He didn’t know what she was talking about or maybe he had an inkling, but he just didn’t want to accept whatever it was. Consciously, he refused to accept it. No, he thought, we’re supposed to have three more years. And even after that I’ll keep her with me, one way or another. “Think about it, Donna. What…I mean…what in the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know what you’ll do, Josh.” Her italics were biting even as her voice was soft. “Find a new assistant, I assume.”

He waved that aside. “You’re not an assistant, Donna. You’re half of my office.”

“That’s very flattering.” 

Why wouldn’t she look at him? “Tell me what to say,” he said, holding his arms out. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need,” she said, slowly and clearly, “to quit.”

“And you’re going to make this decision on a Friday night with four drinks in you?”

She laughed a little, but without humor. “This didn’t come to me just now, Josh.”

“Donna,” he said, his voice raw, “you’re half of me.”

He didn’t know where the words had come from—they hadn’t paused for clearance in his brain, just tumbled out of his mouth—but they were true, the truest words he’d ever spoken. She was Donna, who would always be there for him whenever he might want her. Who tended to every part of him she could reach, who hated that she couldn’t keep him safe at every moment, who would have stepped between him and the bullet that had shattered his insides if she’d been there to do it. He knew that because she had told him so three years ago, when she thought he was asleep, and she’d meant it. She was half of him, beginning and ending every sentence, his first and last call of every day.

“Josh,” she said, and her voice was full of tears. “Don’t say that. You’ll kill me.”

Finally she was there again with him, feeling something. Relieved, he closed the remaining distance between them on the sofa and took her chin in his hand, lifting it so he could meet her wet blue eyes, as he was desperate to. There were expressions he’d never seen in them before, and they rattled him. Love, loss, heartbreak. All perilously close to the surface.

“Donna,” he said, his voice gravelly with some unnamed emotion, “you can’t be serious about this.”

“Yes, I can,” she said. “I am.” Her chin trembled above his fingers. “It’s not right, Josh. Me, here. All the time, going nowhere, running in circles around that office.”

“You take care of me,” he said.

“You take me for granted,” Donna shot back, and there was a new defiance in her face, daring him to dispute it.

Josh took his hand away from her face and looked around him, lost, dazed. She was serious about this.

“I do,” he said readily, the words spilling from him like liquid. “Donna, I know I do. Is that why you’re saying this? Is this supposed to be a wake-up call?”

“On the other hand,” she continued quietly, ignoring the question, “I do a lot for you that you’ve never asked me to, and it’s wrong of me to expect recognition for it. I…feel a lot of things for you that you’ve never asked me to feel, and never wanted me to. You’d wish I didn’t feel them if you knew, if you knew how much…” She drifted off, frightened, losing her nerve.

Josh just stared at her, aghast. She’d been there all this time, knowing him, wanting him, and he’d kept her at arm’s length for reasons he could no longer remember, reasons that now seemed inconceivably stupid. Even with her face crumpled as it was, valiantly fighting back tears, Donna was beautiful. He’d been wrong all along, and this was his last chance. It hit him like nothing else ever had. The last chance.

“You were never mine,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

“I was always yours,” Donna said. “From the first minute we met, Josh. That’s the whole problem.”

She moved her slender white hand to his knee, and just looked at him. That was all she had to do and he felt his world spin completely upside down, himself turned inside out. She was lovely skin and serious eyes and a rosy lower lip that pouted at him just a touch. Her neck rose smoothly from her chest and shoulders even as her body was tense with agony, need, determination.

“And now what? You’re just…gone?”

Donna met his tremulous gaze squarely. “Not quite yet,” she said.

Josh put his hand on the curving place that her neck met her shoulder and watched the expression in her eyes shift. The first touch of her skin was smooth and warm. “Donna,” he said. Her heart was afraid of him, he could tell, afraid of what he might do—but her eyes and her lips said that she liked his hand there. Even that she wanted to be kissed.

“Donna?” he said again, a question this time, and they fell together. I was always yours, she’d said, and now she was showing him.

*

Donna had never been kissed while trying not to cry before, and she felt tears spill over as she began to relax, let herself go, take what she wanted. God he was beautiful, and she’d desired him even while telling him at last that she was leaving. 

She’d never let herself touch him before this, never gotten to smell him, breathe him in from just centimeters away. She was in awe.

The tears slid down her cheeks and transferred to his. He noticed them and pulled back just a little, enough to touch them with his fingers, confirm what they were. They stared at each other eye to eye for long seconds, breath mingling, incredulous.

Donna couldn’t tell what Josh was thinking, but she wondered if he knew that, should he want her, she’d offer herself. One last gift to him, when she would no longer allow herself to keep giving everything else. She wanted him to know that. So she moved the hand that was still on his knee in a slow circle, never taking her eyes off his, and smiled, brief and sweet.

There was a beat of unbearable stillness. Then Josh took the hint, and he crushed her against him again, lifting her from her cross-legged position into something much more suitable for kissing.

*

There was this falling sensation in his stomach. No other way to describe it. He was dizzy. Donna. This is Donna I’m kissing.

Josh felt like devouring her whole. He felt like chaining her to him forever. If he couldn’t do those things, he thought, at least he’d show Donna what he’d never told her, what he’d never really known himself before she spoke those two simple words—I’m quitting—and he realized what it would mean to be without her.

Donna was soft against him in her bathrobe. He moved her legs across his lap for a better angle—then, finding that wasn’t good enough, he moved her to his lap, facing him, a position she seemed to take to happily. Her hands were on him everywhere. They drew incredulous lines up and down his chest, down his arms, as he held her to him desperately, needing to be closer.

Josh was shocked at the intensity of his own physical reaction to what was happening. Hungry. That’s all he could think, over and over. Part of him wanted to stop and to ask of her, “So you won’t quit? This means you’ll stay?” But the other part of him was afraid of the answer, wanted to spend more time convincing her before daring to hope. He moved from Donna’s lips to her neck and kissed, sucked, bit her. She groaned under her breath, involuntarily, moving a hand to his hair, and the sound ignited him. He was almost afraid of his need. 

Her bathrobe was parting, the tie loosening, and Josh suddenly realized that her legs were bare on his lap. That there must be only panties between them. Right then she shifted the final few inches forward, pressing herself against him. He moaned just as she did, just as their eyes met. They’d been physically close before, in airplane and bus seats and in offices and on couches and in hotel rooms for the past six years, but it turned out just six or eight inches more made such a difference, and her on top of him felt so insane and amazing…

Josh unwound his arms from Donna’s torso and slid his hands up her legs, his desire plainly evident with every inch of skin he traveled. “Donna…” he hissed, speaking her name for the third time, and he saw that her eyes were hazy with her need, a need that mirrored his own.

Without another word, he lifted her off him and brought her to the bedroom.

*

Josh pushed her bathrobe off the minute the door was shut, and then looked at her in this way that turned her knees to butter. She wondered how it was possible that everything he did, everything he was, could be so arousing. But then again, hadn’t she known it would be? This was Josh. Could it really be any other way?

He moved toward her, the intensity in his eyes escaping definition. “I don’t have to stop, right?” he asked suddenly in a hoarse voice. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

Donna just shook her head and smiled, knowing that he felt the unreality of the situation just as she did. Then she removed Josh’s shirt quickly and quietly, button after button, aware every second of his heated gaze, the desire emanating from him in waves. When she was done she pushed it aside, tugged off his undershirt, and then scrabbled her fingers against his belt buckle until she got it off. He laughed quietly at her barely reigned-in haste, and she smiled too, knowing he wasn’t making fun, that he understood how she felt.

Josh’s pants were gone and then his socks were too and he was standing there in boxers, his erection straining the fabric. Again, just the sight of him aroused her beyond belief. Donna brushed a hand over his bare chest, marveling at him, so overjoyed just to see him like this. She didn’t think she’d ever been this turned on before, and they’d barely even gotten started.

But this was Josh, and so it made sense. Josh who was staring at her like he’d never seen her before, Josh’s fingers reaching eagerly for the clasp on her bra, watching her, wanting her. Oh, Josh.

*

Her breasts were suddenly free and he reached for them immediately, feeling their weight, brushing his palms across them gently.

At the shock of actually seeing them, naked and lovely before him, Josh realized part of the headiness of what he was feeling was the absolute release of his own self-control. He was allowing himself to want what he never could before – beautiful though Donna certainly was, and always had been, to his mind it simply hadn’t been an option. He’d walled off potential thoughts of her, dreams about her, until he’d convinced himself they didn’t exist. He could storm about her dates all he wanted, weather questions from all sides about the nature of their relationship, but the two places in his brain never connected. Forbidden, absolutely forbidden, every aspect of her.

And now here she was before him, all soft curves and glowing eyes, and he wanted her beyond belief and he knew in that moment, for absolute certain, that he’d never stop wanting her as long as he kept breathing. The cat was out of the proverbial bag, and for good.

As Josh touched her, listened to her sounds and felt himself grow even harder, his mind searched for something bigger, more appropriate. 

The fireworks were out of their box, maybe? Nah.

The herd of stampeding elephants was out of…well, whatever it was that could keep a herd of elephants enclosed?

And then all thoughts of metaphors fled his mind as Donna slid her panties down to the floor to join her bra, and sat back on the bed, eyes on his body, waiting for him. He marveled at her, suddenly so dizzy that he was thankful his body knew what to do and could operate quite independently of his brain. 

He moved to crouch in front of her, pulled off his boxers. As he drew closer, she tilted up her hips, and reached for him. They both stared in wonder at the place where their bodies were about to be joined.

The lamp next to the bed was on from earlier, flooding the room in half-light. They left it on. 

*

When he entered her, Donna had to stifle a scream. In that moment he stretched her to the breaking point, where pain met desire and the whole was greater, and he held her hips and raked his eyes over her, lying wanton beneath him. Then she adjusted around him, all softness and heat, and everything was perfect. He could start moving.

But…to start would mean that soon he would have to stop. Not too soon, Josh amended, knowing well his own abilities. But eventually it would be over. She’d toss her head and arch her back in orgasm—hopefully her second or third by then—and watching her and feeling her would send him too and he’d be lost, done, sated. His claim to her would expire.

Donna seemed to know what he was thinking, in that incredible way of hers. “It’s okay,” she whispered, and wriggled her hips. Desire was thick in her voice. She sounded dazed, overwhelmed by it. “I want you to fuck me, Josh. I need you to.”

He complied—how could he not?—and they were off, moaning and sighing, each so full of wonder at being in the arms of the other. The friction, the feel of skin. Just the sight of their coupling, Josh reflected, without the physical sensation at all, would be something to marvel at.

She was bright pallor, moving hotly underneath him, whispering things that she couldn’t believe she was saying, that he couldn’t believe he was hearing. The words, moans, sighs slipped out of her mouth, low and earnest, a perfect soundtrack to their lovemaking. The pleasure was getting to her, driving her crazy, and she didn’t know what to do but thrust back harder, entangling one hand in her sheets and the other in her own hair. Behind her eyelids she focused on that point of fire, felt it grow deep in her belly and groin, and Josh could sense it in her too and he groaned.

“Oh Josh, my God,” Donna hissed, and then her mouth fell open as an orgasm wracked her. A moan fell from her lips, long and low, then sharpened as it became a breathy scream.

Somehow Josh held onto his control, watching her face, feeling her pulse around him. He’d never wanted anything so much, seen anything so erotic as the image of his arms around her, his cock pushing in and out of her open sex, and the look in her eyes once she recovered that just begged him for more. 

Suddenly Donna slid off of him, making him gasp sharply at the cool air around his erection. She turned over, on her stomach, and beckoned him on top. How could she have known that he loved this position, was dying to bury himself back in her and feel her breasts and whisper in her ear? He did just that, and in doing so he felt the last vestiges of his control abandon him.

This was just like loving her, Josh realized dimly as he sped up his motions, in response to his own lust and her urgent cries. The dam had burst, crumbled uselessly apart, and there was nothing and no one that could hold the raging water back.

He grunted incoherently as he drew closer to the edge. She lifted a hip just as he was reaching around to pat her clit and draw another climax from her delicious body. He began to coax it from her roughly and she let out a high-pitched cry.

He was about to explode. To die. One of the two. At least that’s what it felt like.

“Josh,” Donna moaned in his last few seconds, “Come for me.”

At that his mind flew back to all the little things she told him to do, day in and day out, with that same voice of hers—call this or that senator, put on your scarf or you’ll catch cold, don’t eat too fast, remember to write in your mother’s birthday card—and he thought about how she’d been there all along, so beautiful, so sexy, so fuckable, but above all so lovable.

“God do I love you,” Josh panted, and then she was crying out her release and he was swept into his own. Later he’d realize it was the best he’d ever had by far. Because it was her. Them.

His cock gradually stopped throbbing. “I do,” he whispered to Donna, as he moved off her and behind her, to draw her back against his chest. “I do love you. I do.”

He touched a finger to her lips, and felt her smile.

*

After a moment’s rest, Donna turned to face him and then reached over, turning off the lamp. “Let’s sleep,” she whispered. “You need to be in at 10 tomorrow.” Her hands found the blanket and pulled it over them.

“So do you,” Josh mumbled back, and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

Donna said nothing, only moved back into his arms, twining their legs together. Now that she’d been with him, moved against him, she couldn’t bear any sort of distance. They kissed, lips soft and warm, bodies grazing each other. “Oh,” she sighed, and he moved a hand to the small of her back, then down to cup her bare bottom. A few more minutes of this and she was moaning in earnest, her fingertips fluttering insistently against his chest and stomach.

“Thought you wanted to sleep,” he murmured into her ear, making her shiver.

He was so warm. That’s all she could think and she wriggled even closer, sighed against his mouth.

“Josh,” she said, her voice low, “I can’t believe this.”

“Me neither.”

“I mean,” Donna persisted, desperate to explain, “I thought it would be good, if it ever happened. But I never thought it would be this.”

“You’ve imagined us before?” Josh asked, his voice intrigued. “Together?”

“Of course,” she said, surprised. “I thought you’d gathered that from all this mess. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

He kissed her the moment she stopped talking. He’d been waiting to do that.

“No,” he said, after he pulled back again. “I couldn’t, you know.”

Her face said she didn’t understand.

“I realize now that if I’d let myself…if I’d started…” He broke off and let his gaze wander down her stomach, hip, long legs, all flush against his. “I never would have been able to stop.”

Donna looked at him, eyes serious. “And now?”

His hand wandered down to her ribcage, brushing the skin under her breast. “Now I don’t want to stop.” He pulled her on top of him, and moved her hand to what turned out to be a rapidly expanding erection.

This time it was dark, and they concentrated on nothing but the sensation of their fucking. This time she rode him, chest low, brushing against his. His hands were on her back, her ass, pushing her against him, even slapping a little. But their pace was as languorous as their arousal was powerful. This time he was the vocal one, groaning his pleasure, whispering how good she made him feel.

Donna ground against him as her orgasm broke over her. “Josh,” she said, and the sound of her voice was guttural.

“What do you imagine?” he whispered up to her breathily.

“Huh?” Her brain was fogged, dizzy with pleasure.

“You said you imagine us together.”

She closed her eyes and remembered all those nights, alone in this bedroom, thinking of him. “I touch myself to the thought of you,” she panted.

Josh groaned, speeding up his motions.

“I imagine us against the wall in your office, you just ripping my clothes off one day. I imagine sucking you off when you come over here drunk some night. I like to imagine your hands in my hair while I’m doing it.”

She felt arousal surge between her legs once more as she watched his reaction to her words.

“I imagine you fucking me anywhere, everywhere.” She didn’t recognize her own voice; it was smooth, coaxing, dirty. “It makes me come so hard. And now you are fucking me, Josh. And it feels so good.”

Their bodies were hot and humid as they moved still faster. “Donna,” Josh cried, and the sound was a plea, and he jerked up and lifted her off the bed with him, pushing himself in as far as he could go, and came.

“Oh,” she groaned as they ground together. She felt her own orgasm fluttering within reach. He pushed into her a few more times, desperate to make her come, and on the third stroke she was overtaken by it and let out a high wail, her hands kneading his biceps. “Oh, Josh, ohhhh.”

Josh held her to him, keeping pressure on her center. She stretched leisurely above him as the clenching gradually stopped. “Thank you,” she whispered, and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

“Anytime, Donna.” He ran a hand down her back, teasing gentle circles. “I mean it. Anytime.”

Something in his tone made her raise her head and meet his eyes. He looked…touched. And amazed. As if he’d just discovered the meaning of life, or something of equal magnitude.

Donna smiled at him, and he didn’t notice the sadness in it. “Sleep now,” she muttered, and rolled off him to land on a pillow.

He kept a hand on her waist as they settled under the covers. He couldn’t stop looking at her. “Do you really mean it this time?” he grinned. “Or is this another fake-out?”

“Shut up,” she smiled, and then gasped as his hand brushed against her sex. “Ahhh….You couldn’t go again anyway,” she teased.

He looked affronted. “Of course I could.” He burrowed down against his pillow, and yawned. “I just don’t feel like it.”

“Right.”

He fell asleep still smiling at her.

* 

Hours later Donna watched him breathing evenly, an agonizing blend of joy and misery keeping her awake and her mind working. Tonight, and not without the help of alcohol, she’d finally worked up the courage to tell him she wanted to quit. Her first step towards a new life and the hope of finding real happiness. Then he reached for her and she complied, because she’d always wanted him and because she’d thought it would be a fine last hurrah for them. Nothing more than that. Going into it, her intention had still been to quit.

Now, though….

How many times had she dreamed of him lying here next to her, touching her, whispering he loved her? And dreams, it turned out, came nowhere close to the real thing. She was torn.

You wanted this to happen, a voice whispered inside Donna’s head. You hoped for something like this, something to make you stay.

But she had always known it, CJ had just confirmed it: you can’t stay at a job that’s beneath you just because you’re waiting for your boss to fall in love with you. And Donna had already waited for so long. Years and years of loving Josh, caring for him, hoping he’d notice, really notice. With his words and with his heart.

Josh was so warm and solid next to her, every bit as wonderful as she expected and more. And what fantastic, mind-blowing sex. Not to mention he’d told her he loved her.

But it had been at the very peak of his pleasure, and having lived through many years’ worth of disappointments where he was concerned, she struggled to take it with a grain of salt.

Only, of course, he’d said it again afterward.

Still, she told herself fiercely. This shouldn’t make any difference. Josh hadn’t wanted her to quit before, and now he was certain she wouldn’t, he’d practically said as much. Already taking her for granted again.

Stop. That’s not fair.

But still, part of her revolted against the idea of going back on her word, giving in to him so soon after he’d finally come to his senses at long last. Assuming he had come to his senses, of course. Donna was aware that morning-after sentiments could be drastically different than those expressed post-coitally. And she’d fought so long to work up the courage to leave.

She sighed. She knew what she wanted to do, it was what she’d always wanted: to stay with him. But she also knew what she should do. There was a world of difference between those two.

If he did love her, though—if he really did—didn’t that change things? She remembered him inside her, his eyes as he looked at her, how the expression in them had melted her heart.

She wasn’t sure what to do. The only thing she was sure of was that she loved him, and she always would.

She sighed, and resolved to see what he had to say in the morning.

~

The End

Thinking about writing a sequel, not sure if it’s even necessary.


End file.
